Concentrated thoughts and feeling,
Can hit the floor
Or reach the ceiling,
Poetry is the door,
That when opened,
Always offers,
More and more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I get the impression of a person trapped in a cell, okay - a room - with ceiling and floor marking how limited he is in movement. But - POETRY IS THE DOOR leading to MORE AND MORE. Those last three words are liberating: they don't confirm our confinement like ceiling and floor, they open our imaginations to first hope, then perhaps freedom.